Five Years Later
by Kamikaze Wraith
Summary: What if, after his father's death, Shirou had tried to fulfill his promise to be a savior by leaving home to learn how to be a hero? And, most importantly, what if his attempts had ended in disaster? [Shirou x Harem][Discontinued due to lack of quality.]
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fate/Stay Night. It should also be noted that most of the dialogue in this prologue is taken directly from the anime, in an attempt to preserve continuity.**

**Prologue**

_Fuyuki City._

_The child wandered aimlessly through the wreckage. Around him, everything had gone up in flames. Distantly, he heard the moans of several people trapped beneath the rubble. No one had been spared, it seemed. Still… he couldn't really bring himself to care about it. In fact, he couldn't bring himself to care about **anything** right now…_

_The child looked down, eyeing the bleeding gash on his left side. Why care? He was going to die soon enough…_

_Suddenly, his legs gave out from under him, and he collapsed to the ground, unconscious._

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_Thud._

_Heavy boots, making contact with the ground. Someone was approaching._

_Thud._

_The child opened his eyes, feeling a passing surprise at seeing that there was someone standing by his side. A man. His face seemed… happy?_

_But why, the child wondered. Why be happy when no one had survived? No one, except for him…_

_The man bent down and picked the child up in his arms. He did not struggle._

_Everyone had died… except for him. He had been saved._

_Saved…_

_Everything went black._

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_The child woke up, eyes staring emotionlessly at an unfamiliar ceiling. He was still numb from the events of the disaster, but it appeared his injuries had been healed. He climbed gingerly out of the bed he'd been placed in, intent on exploring his surroundings._

_It was then that the door flew open, and in came the man who had saved him. He eyed the child for a second, and then smiled._

"_I'm glad you're awake. Come, let's go take a walk."_

_They did. There wasn't a lot to see in the hospital, but the walk helped clear their minds. Then, suddenly, the man stopped and turned to face the child._

"_What would you prefer: to be sent to an orphanage or to have a stranger as your guardian?"_

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_Three years later…_

_Both man and child stood beside each other, watching a fireworks display. In the past three years, the child, Emiya Shirou, had undergone extensive recovery, going from the numb shell that had been rescued from the fire to a playful infant, never hesitant to help others, and always bearing a smile on his face. It had been at his request that he and his "father", Emiya Kiritsugu, were out this late, watching the night sky._

_They stood in silence for a few moments, until the child, curious as always, renewed a conversation they had been having not too long ago._

"_Old man… are you really a magician?"_

"_I am."_

_A grin split Shirou's face, but not a mocking one: the infinite trust he had for his father still shone in his eyes._

"_Oh! Can you do things like making food from nothing? Or turning birds into frogs? Or…"_

_A steady glare from his father silenced him._

"_Listen to me, Shirou. Sorcery is a thing that will bring conflict."_

_Shirou blinked in confusion. Surely his father would never use something that could cause harm… or would he?_

_Kiritsugu continued._

"_Pay attention. You must never use sorcery in front of people. Also, controlling it is hard, so you must never forget practicing it. But most importantly, you must only use it for the sake of others and not for yourself."_

_By this time, Shirou's visage was completely serious, his childish features creased as he thought. Then…_

"_I can use sorcery… to save people?"_

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_An hour after that they returned home, sitting comfortably beside each other in the backyard. There was silence for a moment, but then…_

"_You talked about saving people."_

"_Yes…"_

_Kiritsugu smiled._

"_When I was a kid, I admired the protectors of Justice."_

_Shirou turned to look at him, a tad confused._

"_What do you mean, 'admired'? Did you give up?"_

_Kiritsugu looked out into the distance._

"_Yes, unfortunately. Heroes can only be heroes for a limited time… and it's difficult for a grown-up to shout his own name when appearing. I should've thought about that before."_

_Shirou nodded, staring thoughtfully into the moon._

"_I see… Yeah, no can do, I guess."_

_There was a tinge of sadness in his father's voice when he responded. _

"_Yeah. No can do, indeed."_

"_Yeah, so… so I'll take your place," Shirou's voice was full of emotion, "you can't do it anymore, because you're a grown up, but… but it's fine for me, right? Count on me! I'll fulfill your dreams, old man!"_

_Kiritsugu just looked at him with a mixture of nostalgia and disbelief._

"_Right. I feel relieved now."_

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_One year after that event, Shirou ran through the house, packing his things in a blue duffle bag. It had only been a day after his father's funeral, and Fuji-nee would be here soon. He knew he would never manage to sneak out with her around, so he would have to work quickly in gathering what he needed. Food? A few cans would do. Clothing? Three shirts and some underware. Money? He had a few thousand yen in his pocket. He'd be fine, he reasoned, as long as he was careful with his spending. If he followed the plan he'd set up, this would be an easy journey._

_With this on his mind, he ran outside, locking the door behind him._

"_Don't worry old man, you may be gone, but I'm still here, and I keep my promises. I'll fulfill your dream!"_

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_Two years later…_

_The boy, now fourteen, crawled inside the alley, attempting bravely to ignore the pain in his ribs, and failing miserably. He had only wanted to take a bit of meat… just a bit… and they'd kicked his ass for it._

_He fell to the ground with a moan of pain, clutching his sides. It had been two years since he had left… two years, and it had all turned into a complete disaster. His dream of following in his father's footsteps had all but disappeared, and now he was reduced to stealing food just to survive._

"_Dad… this… this was not how I meant things to turn up…"_

_Simply saying this caused him to start coughing, spit and blood flying from his mouth._

_Meanwhile, the woman simply watched. It was him, alright. She could feel it. Still… it was a bit of a disappointment… she had been waiting for almost a year, and this was what she got: a half-starved runt. But she'd have to manage._

_Green eyes gleamed in the dark and a soft, accented voice reached Shirou's ears._

"_My, my, my… it is not proper for little boys to be wandering around after dark, is it?_


	2. Episode One

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fate/Stay Night. Any original characters in this fic, however, are mine.**

**Chapter One.**

_Arrival._

Fuyuki City.

You know, when I set I think of the place, I always imagined that it would stay the same. I'm not an idiot; deep down I always knew that it was impossible. Whatever the case, people have a right to dream, don't they?

But I digress.

My story starts five years after I left my father's house in a futile attempt to fulfill his dream. An attempt that ended in disaster. I can't be arsed giving you the details right now – it would bore both of us and get in the way of the real story.

All I can say is that my outlook on life is much… grimmer… than it used to be.

At any rate, the story begins when I returned to Fuyuki City to participate in a slightly unusual "game" - The 5th Holy Grail War. Seven Masters and Seven Servants, all crossing swords in an epic struggle to obtain the all powerful Holy Grail, etc, etc, etc. You know what it is, so I won't explain what you already know.

Now, I returned to Fuyuki only a few days after the death of another mentor – Genevieve, a French magician working in Japan. She took me in after my unpleasant experience, broken and starved, two years after I had left my home behind. She taught me everything I know, including the nature of the Holy Grail War. Unfortunately, Genevieve liked to… "play with fire", so to speak, and one day, only a week before the start of the 5th War, she was "burnt". Her last words to me as she lay dying, her body riddled with bullets, was a petition for me to fight in the War in her stead and not to go after the ones who killed her. She never explained why, though I have to say she never really had the chance to – the poor woman choked on her own blood just a few seconds later.

At that point I wanted nothing more than to hunt down the bastard who killed her and snap his neck, I did owe Genevieve for taking me in and teaching me when she could've just let me rot in the streets.

And so, I traveled to Fuyuki. At this point my objectives were in no way clear – I had to summon a Servant, but had no idea how. To make up for this, I would require a magical artifact to serve as a catalyst for the summoning. However, I had neither the influence nor the money to secure one, and the only person I knew who could provide those things, Genevieve, was dead.

And so it started. "The board was set and the pieces were assembled", for those of poetic inclination. I lacked the ability to summon a Servant, but hey, Fuyuki _is _calledthe second most magical place in Japan for a reason. I would manage… somehow.

Oh, and for those poor idiots who haven't caught on, even with all those hints practically thrown at their faces, my name is Emiya Shirou, and I am the Seventh Master.

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_Assessment._

Though I may not have possessed anywhere near the amount of money needed to obtain an artifact that could be used as a catalyst, that didn't mean I was penniless. Genevieve had always kept a small safe inside her home, and it had only taken a bit of Tracing sorcery to find a way to get past the lock. There was, as I had hoped, enough money inside to make certain I wouldn't have to sleep in the streets during my stay in Fuyuki. When I finally arrived there, I rented a small room in a shabby motel in one of slums. While it was not exactly comfortable, it had a bed and offered a secure location where I could plan my next move. I knew that searching out the city's artifact dealers would be a useless venture – none of them would dare acquire such a powerful object. There was only one other option. I would have to steal the artifact.

A tinge of guilt went through me, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. By that time, the days when I thought stealing was an "evil" thing to do were gone and forgotten.

But I did not dwell on that. Instead, I devoted my thoughts to figuring out _who_ I should steal from.

From what I knew of the history of Fuyuki, two notable sorcerer families resided in the city – the Matou and the Tohsaka. Both of these families had bred powerful sorcerers and, in their prime, had accumulated many valuable objects over the years.

Fortunately for me, events during the past century had caused the Matou bloodline to thin, and the family had become magically dead, making them easy targets.

I dwelled on this for a few hours before making my decision, then went to sleep. I would have a long day ahead of me.

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_Intruder._

I woke up early the next day and left the motel, heading for a small bar, where I hoped to obtain at least some information. The bartender looked at me quite critically when I entered – the black trenchcoat I was wearing was in sharp contrast with the working clothes of the bar's blue collar clientele – and quite nearly kicked me out when he deduced from my face that I wasn't of drinking age. Still, he was not a scrupulous man, and a fake ID and some money placed a drink in my hand. He also kindly offered directions to the well-known Matou household to my responsive ears.

I lounged around the bar for a while, making idle conversation with several people, then left. I spent most of the morning and early afternoon wandering around the city and attempting to familiarize myself with its main streets and gathering places. Things had changed a lot since I was last here, and it wouldn't do to get into a fight with no knowledge of my surroundings.

It was not until dusk that my wandering brought me near to what had once been my home. The large property was intact; indeed, it looked almost unchanged from my last stay there. I pondered whether the house was still mine, even after all these years. In the end, I decided that it had to be – I was, to the extent of my knowledge, my father's only heir. Besides, I could easily produce any number of facts and documents to prove that I was the real Emiya Shirou.

With this in mind I walked up to the padlocked gates of the property and Traced a key, quickly opening the gates. From there I moved swiftly to the front door of the house, but to my great surprise I found it unlocked. Alarm bells rang in my head, a byproduct of both Genevieve's teachings and my own days in the streets. Still, there could be any number of reasons why the door was unlocked that didn't involve someone waiting to ambush me.

I opened the door and headed in.

As soon as I went inside and inspected the living room I was unnerved to find everything spotlessly clean. That had to mean someone was coming in here to-

"Eek!"

Needless to say, I nearly had a fucking heart attack. Still, I managed to control myself and swiveled around, grabbing whoever had screamed by the neck. They struggled, hard, screaming all the time. In the end, I managed to pin… _her_… to the floor.

As you have probably inferred, it was a girl. Disregarding her constant yelling and the awkward position we were in, with me on top of her and pinning her down, I simply continued to keep her from struggling while I tried to get a decent look at her. She had long, bleached hair, pale skin, and deep blue eyes. Her body, however, was her most attractive feature – though her face revealed that she was quite young, perhaps even a year younger than me, the rest of her was… quite developed... to say the least.

And her outfit… her outfit was just _fucked_.

She wore a very short, clingy black dress with a frilly white apron attached to it, black stockings, a red ribbon around her neck, and a tiara decorated with white lace over her head. Clearly, someonehad watched too much maid anime for her own good.

I just stared at her, quite surprised. She had gone quiet during my inspection, and now was simply resorting to glaring daggers at me.

"Why… why are you dressed like this?"

Her only response was to start struggling again, and it was only when I forcefully stopped her that she answered.

"I dress like however I fucking want to dress! Now get the fuck off of me, you bastard!"

I did the contrary and pressed down harder.

"Why should I? I did just catch you breaking into my home."

If looks could kill, I'd have at least been writhing on the floor in pain at that moment. As it was, however, she simply had to resort to screaming at me, struggling once more.

"What the fuck are you on about? I'm the fucking _maid_, dumbass, if anyone is breaking and entering into your home, it's…"

She trailed off, her face paling. I quirked an eyebrow.

"Yes?"

She frowned.

"You couldn't possibly be…"

"What if I am?" I asked, smirking and relaxing my grip on her a bit. She appeared to notice that, but made no move to struggle again. Instead, she looked at me critically.

"Prove it."

I nodded.

"My stuff is inside my coat, so I'm going to have to let go of you to grab it. Careful, though, if you move, I'll have your ass on the floor faster than you can blink."

I let her up. She moved.

_THUD!_

"Ow!"

She sat on the floor, rubbing her sore behind – the only thing that had cushioned her fall. While she was distracted, I put my right hand inside my coat, focusing my thoughts.

'_Trace, on!'_

A small plastic card with my picture appeared in my hand. I was hard-pressed at the time and had little real legal knowledge, so they weren't exactly perfect, but I hoped they would convince the girl.

They did.

I handed them to her as soon as she managed to get up from the floor. She was skeptical at first, but as she examined the card and read the document her face started growing paler by the second.

By the time she handed the things back, her face was as devoid of color as her hair, and there was a look of fear about her.

She looked into my eyes…

"Please don't fire me, Sir!"

God, I'm awesome.

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An hour later the girl and I sat in the living room, calmly sipping cups of green tea she had prepared. The girl had also switched clothing, exchanging her maid uniform for a comfortable black dress… a _tight_, comfortable black dress. All in all, things seemed to have finally settled down a bit.

But this was all just a mask for a _fierce_ interrogation. Or something like that.

"So," I said, sipping my tea, "what's your name?"

She looked up from her own cup.

"Arisu."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Eh… _Takahashi_ Arisu, Sir."

"Shirou."

"Huh?"

"Call me Shirou."

She nodded. We sat in silence for a while, but my curiosity ultimately got the best of me.

"Why are you here?"

"I told you, I'm working here as a maid."

"Why?"

A flicker of irritation passed through her eyes, but it disappeared quite quickly. The girl… Arisu… obviously didn't feel like getting fired.

"Well, my grandfather sent me here to study in a private school two months ago. He's a rather… old-fashioned, man. He thinks I need to learn how to deal with… 'real life' as soon as possible, so he refused to pay for anything other than the school and the train ride to Fuyuki. I stayed in a motel for the first few days, but then I saw an ad in the local newspaper looking for a live-in maid to help maintain an unused house. I didn't really want to use up all my money on the motel, and I knew I had to get a job soon, so I called the number the ad gave. I got hired right away."

I kept a neutral face through her explanation. Arisu's story fit, but I still had my doubts.

"Who hired you?"

"Well, I didn't get his first name, but he insisted I call him 'Mr. Fujimura'. The only instructions he gave me was that I tidy up this house. He… he also told me that if the owner ever came back and was displeased with me, he would listen only to the owner's instructions."

My eyes widened a bit. Fujimura was an old friend of my father's. Indeed, my father had trusted him enough to allow him to handle all of the legal problems with my inheritance when he died. Still… it wasn't his responsibility to keep the house clean, so why had he just suddenly gone up and done this?

"Do you have any idea why he hired you?"

Arisu's cheeks went slightly pink at this question. She looked a tad embarrassed.

"Well… he said it was because… because…"

She was flushing now. This couldn't be good. Still…

"Because…?"

"_Because I have a nice ass, **alright**!?"_

There was a long pause. Then suddenly, Arisu, as if only just realizing what she'd said, gasped and brought a hand to cover her mouth. I, slightly embarrassed by the awkward situation, simply turned my head and stared out a window, my eyes widening. It was nightfall, and I _still_ had yet to steal the Matou artifact.

I stood up from my seat, rather abruptly, almost knocking down the tea tray. This took Arisu out of her reverie, a stream of apologies bursting from her mouth.

"Sir! I'm so sorry; I swear I won't ever do-"

I raised a hand to silence her.

"There's nothing that you've done wrong. While your answer… wasn't what I expected… I should have probably made myself clearer. At any rate, I have a pressing matter to attend to, so we'll have to continue this conversation later."

Arisu blinked.

"So… I'm not fired?"

I smiled at her. The first smile I'd given anyone in quite a while, if I recall correctly.

"No, you're not fired."

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_Retrieval._

You know, if I hadn't wasted so much time interrogating Arisu, stealing the catalyst artifact from the Matou may have been a lot easier and quite a bit subtler. Unfortunately, I was pressed for time – any magician could summon a Servant at any given moment, and if that Servant just happened to be the Seventh, my chance would be lost. I had no time to sneak in.

So when I arrived at the Matou household, I did what any sane, normal person would do. I walked up to the entrance and rang the doorbell. Nothing happened for a few minutes, then someone from the inside started yelling…

"Sakura, open the damn door!"

The sound of rushing footsteps reached my ears, and then the door opened, revealing a beautiful girl dressed in a school uniform. Violet eyes stared quizzically at me from a smiling face.

"Good evening, Sir, how can we help you?"

Pretty girl. Such a shame to have to hurt her.

I returned her smile for a moment. Then my right hand flew towards her neck, fingers easily finding that oh-so-special nerve and pressing down hard.

The girl fell to the ground with a thud, unconscious.

I stepped over her and went through the doorway, surveying the Matou's finely decorated living room and finding nothing of interest. I would have to go upstairs, it seemed.

It was at that point, however, that things got a lot easier.

Footsteps sounded from the nearby staircase, and someone else came to the living room, words of admonishment for the girl already in his mouth.

"What's up, Sakura? Can't you even receive a guest pro-"

A Traced pistol was pointed at his head in less than a second, making him stop in his tracks. I took my time to look him up. He was every inch the pretty boy – fine clothes, perfectly done purple hair, and hands that looked like they probably had never had to do anything harder than holding a pencil. Pathetic.

"Your name?" I asked.

He seemed to jump in fright at my mere words.

"Y-you… you're not from the archery club…"

I arched an eyebrow and pulled back the pistol's hammer.

"Your _name_," I repeated.

"Please, I…"

In the span of a second I closed the distance between us and grabbed him by the neck. The look on his face went from very scared to outright terrified.

"Give. Me. Your. Name."

"M-Matou… Matou Shinji!"

I almost sighed. He'd cracked in what… two seconds? Cowards like him have a way of making me lose faith in humanity.

"Shinji. Tell me where the family artifacts are."

"I… I don't know what y-you're talking about…"

My grip around his neck tightened.

"Really?"

"Ack- le… let… go of my neck and… tell… you… can't breathe!"

I would've enjoyed toying with him some more, but I couldn't afford to waste time. Thus, I relaxed my grip on him just a bit, enough for him to talk, and let him betray his family's honor.

"The things… they're in a room upstairs, hidden in a safe… I have the key with me."

"Good," I said, pressing the pistol I'd Traced earlier to his head, "show me."

He did, leading me up the stairs and through several candle-lit corridors. When we finally reached the room, however, he stopped, his face pale and his hands trembling.

"What is it?" I asked, my tone a tad mocking.

"I…"

"_Yes?"_ I pressed the barrel of my pistol against the back of his head for greater effect.

"Nothing," he said, opening the door and going in. I followed him. The room was empty save for a safe built into the wall.

"Open the safe," I said.

Shinji reached into his pockets and pulled out a small silver key. With trembling hands he put the key inside the lock and turned it. The safe opened soundlessly, revealing its contents: a gold necklace, a diamond ring, and a small, unremarkable, black leather collar.

"This is it?" I asked with some surprise, "What a disappointment. Really, Shinji, has your family sunk so low that they had to sell most of their artifacts just to get by?"

Before he could respond, I hit him with the butt of my pistol, knocking him unconscious and throwing him to the ground.

Now came the hard part. I had to determine which of the three artifacts in front of me was magical enough to be used as a catalyst to summon, and if none of them were… well, I'd be fucked.

I closed my eyes and concentrated my mind on the objects, trying to use my mana to sense the amount of magic injected in them.

It was hard. I'd never been good at things like that… in fact, I'd never been good at any kind of sorcery, save for Tracing, that is. Even today, almost a decade later, I still fondly remember the fits Genevieve would regularly throw over that.

But still, I tried… the neck lace was useless… tried again… so was the ring… tried once more…

"There!"

My eyes snapped open and my right hand flew at the leather collar, independent of my thoughts.

I will admit to _almost_ jumping around in jubilation. _**Almost.** _I still have my dignity.

Instead, I cracked a smile, pocketed the collar, and turned to leave. As I did, I happened to glance at Shinji's unconscious body, noticing a trickle of blood flowing from his head. Perhaps I'd hit him a bit _too _hard.

Oh, well.

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TBC…

**A/N: **Holy shit, it's been ages since I've written a decent length chapter for _anything_! I feel fucking revitalized! A storm's coming, bitches! Fuck, yeah!

Er…

Well, please disregard that outburst. The next chapter is coming soon, hopefully in the span of a couple of days, maybe even less, if nothing gets in the way. For now, all I'll do is prematurely apologize if I somehow raped the canon (I doubt it, but hey, I could be wrong), and to ask you people to please review. It's kinda hard to tell what I'm doing wrong without them. Besides that, thanks for reading.

- KW.

P.S.: All credit goes to DarckRedd for being my beta for this chapter.


	3. Interlude, Part One

Ah, _you_ again. You know, it bothers me that you just **had** to keep pestering me for details on my change of attitude, especially after I told you that I really couldn't be fucked telling you. Still, if you must now, it didn't come immediately to me after some sort of traumatic event. No, it was gradual. When did it start? Well, I suppose it could've started at any time during my journey, perhaps even from the first step I took outside my house. As if I should know!

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**Interlude, part One.**

"_Don't worry old man, you may be gone, but I'm still here, and I keep my promises. I'll fulfill your dream!"_

_It had been almost twelve months since he'd said that. Or maybe more. He'd stopped counting after a while – too hard to do with an empty stomach._

_Currently, Emiya Shirou was wandering the streets of a random city whose name eluded him. He hadn't even thought to ask, not after all that his experiences with people had brought._

_The first steps of his journey, while not pleasurable, were by no means hard. He'd left Fuyuki and wandered around the countryside for a bit. Oh, certain uncomfortable things had to be born, such as the fact that, during the day, after hours of walking, the duffle bag with his things felt as if it was filled with bricks, and that during the night, he was forced to sleep on the ground, where insects seemed to enjoy crawling over and stinging his body. All in all, it wasn't anywhere near the easy experience some anime made it out to be, but it wasn't that bad._

_Then his food ran out._

_Luckily for him, that day he'd come across an old inn, into which he promptly went inside. It was almost completely empty, and its only keeper was a grumpy old woman who wouldn't stop asking him why he wasn't with his parents. In the end he got his food, alright, nice and hot; but his money, which had seemed like a lot to him, was completely gone. Apparently, the inn had been having some trouble lately, and had to raise its fees. But this didn't matter to him. After all, he knew there would certainly be kind people along the road who would gladly share a meal with him, and even if there weren't, the environment could provide him with what he needed. He left the inn with a smile on his face._

_But soon after that, things started changing. The people he met on the countryside were few and far between, most others preferring the comfort of their cars in the highway, and even fewer ever gave him more than a cookie and a barrage of questions as to why he was wandering alone. What was worse, even though Mother Nature did give him what he needed when he couldn't find it with humans, most of it, being edible plants he had heard of, tasted foul, and many times he'd get confused and pick the wrong thing, which could do anything from causing a heavy rash to making him vomit the contents of his stomach. To make matters even harder, Shirou did not know how to cook over a bonfire, and didn't have the proper equipment to do so either, so eating animals was out of the question. The one time he'd managed to actually catch something, a rabbit, all he'd ended up with was several small burns and a charred carcass._

_Still, despite these difficulties, he plunged onward, walking ahead until he reached a city._

_And that, **that **was when things really went to shit._

_In the city, people were cold. All they did when he asked for food or a place to stay was turn him away._

_In the city, there was no Mother Nature, however rough she was, to give him what he needed when he couldn't find it anywhere else._

_And most importantly, in the city, when he walked along the streets at night, he found that morals – that code forged by the good part of him and tempered by his common sense that Kiritsugu had taught him to follow, were ignored here. Thugs, mob members, and street rats plagued the streets. While many of them weren't particularly eager to do anything public, lest it get them jailed, most seemed to find attacking a defenseless child perfectly acceptable. And they did. Within a week of arriving Shirou had been robbed of everything but the clothes he was wearing._

_And thus began a downward spiral. Lacking food to eat, Shirou begged for it on the streets. Lacking anyone responsive to his pleas and unwilling to relinquish his ideals, Shirou turned to scavenging. Half-rotten food, however, could only sustain someone for so long, so in the end Shirou took his first step in what would be a long road towards breaking his promise to his father. He began filching things from food stands, sticking his hands in foreign pockets, that kind of thing. Of, course, he was still a righteous kid, to the point that second thoughts and hesitation assaulted him often during his ventures, leading him to be caught in the act and forcing him to run off, his hands empty and stomach hungry, with only the "misery" he felt for what he thought was "betraying" his father._

_Poor, poor Shirou. He was so caught up in his little, useless moral dilemma that he never even thought to go to a shelter. Idiot._

_Still, for all his faults, he realized that things simply couldn't go on this way._

_So, that leads us to the start of this interlude. After many beatings, chases, clever escapes, and lots and lots of hesitation and vomit-inducing self-pity, Shirou managed to scrounge up –read: steal– enough money to at least start thinking of taking a train away from this hell he'd somehow managed to get himself stuck in. So that was what he would do. Walk to the train station, buy a ticket, and get the fuck out._

_Now, over the course of several months, Shirou's knowledge of the city had increased exponentially, despite the fact that he didn't know its name. He managed to make his way to the train station quickly enough, reading the list of destinations and choosing the cheapest one he could. The booth lady looked critically at his patched and frayed clothing, but money was money, and Shirou had managed to grow enough over the past months that he could finally be taken, if not seriously, at least as something more than a mere child, so in the end he got his ticket. The name of the city printed on it was not familiar to him, but he hoped it'd be a better place than the one he was leaving._

_An hour later he boarded the train, quickly finding his seat and slumping on it. He was, to put it mildly, very tired, and when it came to sleeping the train seat really beat the cold floor. He was dozing off now, soon enough he'd-_

"_Hi!"_

_Shirou nearly jumped out of his seat, shaken out of what had promised to be a very good sleep. Looking around frantically, he found the source of his disturbance – a tiny, brown haired girl in a flower-patterned dress. She smiled at him, blue eyes shining._

_Shirou blinked._

"_Who… who are you?"_

"_Akira!" she responded with a giggle._

"_You're not alone, are you?" _

_The girl's eyes widened._

"_Ooh… nope! My mommy and daddy are over there!" she pointed at a finely dressed gentleman talking animatedly with a snobby looking woman in a red dress, "I just sneaked in here so I could explore the train!"_

_Shirou scratched his head._

"_Well… I really don't think-"_

"_Akira!" the man Akira had claimed was her father called out, advancing upon them and grabbing the girl by the wrist. Soon enough her mother was there as well._

"_Akira…" said the father, staring at Shirou with a look of pure disdain, "how many times have I told you not to talk with…with… ugh, well, **strangers **while we're not looking? Come on now, let's go find our seats."_

_They left, the father grumbling something under his voice, and the mother complaining loudly about how "riff-raff" shouldn't be allowed on the train. Akira, however, managed to give Shirou one last smile and a wave before she was dragged off._

_Shirou sighed when they left. Though the little girl had been nice to him, he couldn't get over the fact that her parents were the very same kind of people who had turned him away when he had most needed help. He gave this some contemplation before finally falling asleep; hoping that the train he was on would lead him, if not completely away from people like them, at least to a better place._

_------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

**One year later…**

_Emiya Shirou sighed as he sat on a park bench, rubbing his hungry belly. While his wish for a better place had been granted, Toyo City, the place where the train had taken him, wasn't exactly a paradise for homeless people. Though Toyo was much smaller than the city he had left, and crime was at an all time low, guaranteeing that he wouldn't get regularly mobbed and beaten; Shirou still had to steal to get by. Fortunately, most of his original inhibitions against that had been dulled, then crushed, by an entire year of having to do so. On the unfortunate side, his progress in becoming a hero of justice was nil. _

'_Damn it,' he thought, 'as much as I don't like it, I really have to do something about this hunger before nightfall. I haven't eaten all day long…'_

_With yet another sigh he got up from the bench. These days he had been stealing his meals from an outdoor restaurant. The food was good, but the cook was an unstable bastard. A muscular giant of a man, Shirou had already seen him throw several fits at his inability to catch the "sonuva whore who's been stealing my shit" as the cook liked to refer to him._

_It was risky business, alright. He knew that if the cook caught him, he wouldn't care one bit about breaking all the bones in his body to make sure Shirou never stole from him again._

_Giving his third sigh in less than ten minutes, Shirou started walking towards the restaurant, a the clinical part of his mind quickly pointing out the irony, as it had always done, that he had been reduced from hero-in-training to a petty thief._

_------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_Meanwhile, at the train station, the last train of the day arrived at Toyo, the usual crowd of passengers descending from it. The usual… with one exception. A tall blond woman, dressed in a long black dress, sauntered off the train, looking for all the world as if she owned the place. Her features obviously European, were quite beautiful, and her body was perfect in every way, so much so that it left very little doubt that she had probably… **"enhanced"** it in some way, though no one dared voice this. Calmly, she approached a security guard, green eyes sparkling._

"_Bonjour, Sir. Would you care to point me to the city center?" So she was French, apparently._

_The guard's mouth opened and closed quite quickly as he realized he was being addressed by the woman. In the end he managed to stammer out the directions and the blonde woman walked away her movements seductive every inch of the way. The guard kept staring open mouthed in the direction the woman had left for long after she was gone. That is, of course, until his female colleague slapped him upside the head, shaking him out of his stupor and muttering something around the lines of "silicone pumped slut…" under her breath._

_------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_While all this happened, Emiya Shirou was busy dying. The cook, whom he'd previously labeled off as an idiot, was apparently much smarter than he looked. He'd managed, through a carefully concealed alarm system, to catch Shirou in the act of stealing a steak he had been preparing. Shirou had, of course, done the logical thing and ran like hell, but in the end the cook managed to corner him into a dead-end alley and proceeded to pummel Shirou to the ground. Unfortunately, he had not stopped there. Oh, no. Apparently, Shirou had stolen from him one too many times. It was time to teach him a lesson. And so, the cook kicked him with his massive boots while the boy was down, not stopping until he heard a nice, satisfying crack. He left after that. After all, it didn't matter if the boy died. He was just a street rat. No one would give a fuck._

_But Shirou was not dead. At least not yet. Using his last bit of strength, he crawled deeper inside the alley, resting his back against a wall._

'_Great… just fucking great,' he thought, 'I've survived months without eating anything bigger than a cookie for several days, managed to avoid the cops and endure the beatings of gangs of armed thugs. All this… and I get done in by a **cook**? Without even fulfilling my promise?'_

"_Dad… this… this was not how I meant things to turn up…"_

_Simply saying this out loud caused him to start coughing, spit and blood flying from his mouth._

_Meanwhile, the woman simply watched. It was him, alright. She could feel it. Still… it was a bit of a disappointment… she had been searching for almost a year, and this was what she got: a half-starved runt. But she'd have to manage. Still, if Kiritsugu weren't dead, he'd owe her big time._

_Green eyes gleamed in the dark and a soft, accented voice reached Shirou's ears._

"_My, my, my… it is not proper for little boys to be wandering around after dark, is it?"_

_Immediately, he tried to crawl away from the potential aggressor, but his strength failed him, and he hit the ground, unconscious._

_The woman bent down and picked him up without difficulty, caressing his hair almost tenderly. She could sense it. Despite his external appearance, the boy might not be that powerless after all. Still, she'd have to get him out quickly and heal his injuries – he was running out of time to live._

_And so, the woman left, carrying the boy with her, all the while humming a strangely disturbing tune._

_**TBC…**_


	4. Episode Two

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fate/Stay Night. Any original characters in this fic, however, are mine. Fate/Stay Night is protected by international treaties and the Trans-Pacific "Don't Touch my Toot-Toot" Act of 4242. Beware its wrath. **

**Wtf, Darck?**

_A dark room._

_Shirou stared into the darkness, futilely._

'_Where am I?'_

_The last thing he remembered was that vicious beating in the alley. But now…here he was, alive._

_Suddenly, a feminine voice broke through the silence._

"_Two doors. Which one?"_

_A part of the room lit up, revealing two doors, one white and one black. Shirou looked at them, bewildered. What was he supposed to do?_

"_Choose quickly!"_

_Another part of the room lit up, revealing a bare white-plaster wall. Once more, Shirou stared, but this time it wasn't out of confusion. Something was entering the room through a crack in the wall. A black… ooze… was slipping inside, some of it already pooling on the floor. Driven by some sort of morbid fascination, Shirou stood still, his gaze fixated on the ooze as it spilled through the ever-widening crack-_

"_MOVE!"_

_The plaster that made up the wall broke apart, and liters of ooze flooded the room, covering the floor and breaking Shirou out of his stupor. Realizing his danger, Shirou turned and ran, rushing towards the white door._

"_No! It's too late for that! Take the black one! The black door is farthest from the Thing!"_

_Then, as if it were a single living entity, the black ooze coalesced into a long tentacle, striking at Shirou with amazing speed. To the boy's credit, he attempted to dodge, leaping to his left. An honorable effort, but not enough. Though the tentacle missed most of his body, it managed to hit his right arm, cutting through the flesh as a knife would cut through warm butter._

_Shirou screamed._

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**Chapter Two.**

_Flight._

I moved quickly through the streets of Fuyuki, having left the Matou household by midnight. While things had certainly gone much smoother than I had expected, my time was still running short. I had to summon a Servant – now.

Thinking back, things would have been a lot different if I had looked before I leapt. It was not a huge leap to think that Arisu would probably be asleep, or that I possessed a large property with many places to summon the Servant without her noticing.

Too bad I wasn't thinking clearly. As it was, I simply chose the closest spot where no one could possibly see me at midnight – a nearby high school. I'd seen it before, and I was certain that there couldn't be anyone there at this late an hour.

In later days, I would come to regret my choice.

When I finally reached the school's courtyard everything seemed perfectly normal. The lights were out and all was silent. It was perfect. At least, it was until I heard the battle. At first it was just a girl's voice, coming from the other side of the courtyard, barking orders like a military man. Then the voice of another girl rang out, the crazy bitch yelling at the top of her lungs. The sound of clashing weapons followed. Against my better judgment, I crept over to investigate, trying to move silently.

What Isaw when I finally got there, hiding behind a dumpster, was, in retrospect, not all that surprising. In fact, I should have _expected _it to happen.

Still, seeing Servants square off against each other for the first time would cause anyone to be at least a bit unsettled.

There were two of them – a teenage girl with braided blond hair, with European features and a full set of medieval armor. She was holding some sort of invisible weapon like one would a sword. _'Saber,'_ I thought. Behind her was the girl whose voice I'd heard first, black hair flying theatrically. Slim, athletic, and wearing the same school uniform the Matou girl had worn, she looked a tad more fit to compete in a sporting event than to be a Master.

The other Servant was different. He wore a one piece blue battlesuit over a lithe body. His face carried a cocky grin, his features giving away the same Western heritage that Saber possessed. In his hands he held a massive red spear, its tip barbed and looking quite deadly. Lancer, obviously.

"So," he said to the other Servant, "_Saber. _I expected quite a bit more from you. The lack of force behind your strikes disappoints me."

Saber stiffened, looking as if someone had just mortally insulted her.

"Lancer!" she said, shifting her weapon, "I do not that think you, one who cannot even fight honorably, could ever be a proper judge of my skill." Yes, it appears Servants have a penchant for dramatic talk.

Lancer's only response to his opponent was a sudden leap towards her, his spear extended. Saber quickly brought up her weapon and parried the strike, quickly countering with a blow of her own, which Lancer easily blocked. Through all of this, Saber's Master watched quietly, not intervening.

The battle appeared to me as two blue blurs jumping through the air and colliding repeatedly with each other, their bodies and weapons moving too quickly for a normal human to register.

'_An interesting fight,'_ I thought, _'it's too bad I don't have enough time to stay and watch. I'd wager I could learn a lot from this.'_

It was right then, just as I was about to leave, that things got really, really bad.

Both Lancer and Saber returned to the ground after a particularly severe exchange of blows, apparently trying to recover themselves. It was then, as Saber attempted to catch her breath, that Lancer struck, sending his spear straight towards Saber's neck. The girl quickly parried, but she failed to realize that she had just fallen into Lancer's trap – by blocking his strike instead of avoiding it, she'd left her left side unprotected. Lancer pounced on the opportunity, delivering a massive kick to her side that sent her flying…

…straight at the dumpster I was hiding behind.

Now, you can imagine my surprise – all I saw was a large blue blur flying towards me and colliding with the dumpster, and then said dumpster coming down upon my crouching form. Thus, I performed the first action that came to my head: I dived to the side, hitting the ground hard. I quickly got to my feet, but it was too late – I'd been noticed. Lancer, who had been on the verge of attacking Saber's Master while her Servant was down, immediately turned to face me.

I knew the rules of the Holy Grail War: to keep it secret at all costs. Since there was nothing to indicate that I might be another Master, well…

"Watch out!"

It was Saber's Master, the black haired girl, finally speaking after staying silent since the start of the battle. Her warning came not a moment too soon, and I threw myself to the ground, barely avoiding being impaled by the red spear flying towards me.

'_A weapon,' _I thought, _'I need a weapon.'_

A hastily Traced sword appeared in my right hand at the thought, and I managed to bring it up in time to intercept another one of Lancer's strikes. Unfortunately, the sword was a measly, brittle thing, its creation hasty and unplanned. It was little better than a stick in terms of combat. It broke almost immediately after I blocked Lancer's spear. However, it bought me enough time for me to get back onto my feet.

Meanwhile, Saber seemed to have recovered, disengaging herself from the dumpster and getting up. Soon enough, a barked order from her Master had her charging again, sword raised high. Lancer immediately turned his attention away from me in order to defend himself.

Fortunately, I know an opportunity when I see it, and I seized this one. While Lancer was occupied, I turned tail and ran, moving quickly to the other side of the schoolyard. I knew I wasn't safe. Even though the black-haired Master had let me escape, Lancer had every right to forfeit his duel with Saber to come after me, if it meant keeping the Holy Grail War's secrecy intact. I knew that if I kept running, I'd be lucky to make it out of the school before he found me, and I'd be at a severe disadvantage: guns, which were one of the few combat instruments I had any kind of proficiency at, were useless against someone like Lancer. I'd also be forced to fight in open ground, on territory I barely knew. Not good things if I wanted to live longer than a few minutes.

No matter how futile it was to run, I knew I would fair worse to hide. Lancer would eventually find me, no matter what I did. In the end, a confrontation was inevitable. The best I could do was find some location that would restrict Lancer's mobility. If I managed to do that, there was a chance, however small, that I could pull some miracle out of my ass and escape in one piece.

I continued my flight, deciding that my best chance was to hope that Saber held Lancer up long enough for me to get back to my home. The idea that I would be putting Arisu's life on the line by doing that didn't even cross my mind – my thoughts were distorted by adrenaline rushing through my veins, and I was terrified of the humiliation I would suffer if Lancer managed to kill me before I even entered the War. One of my many faults… though I'd like to think that this was a mark of Genevieve's teachings, and not a natural impulse.

Fortunately for Arisu's continued wellbeing, I didn't know Fuyuki's streets too well, and ended up taking a wrong turn on the road to my home. Cursing, I looked around for a way to get back to where I wanted to be. Lancer could reach me at any-

"Miss me?"

Well, nevermind. I turned around quickly, finding Lancer standing only a few meters from me. Running was useless now.

"How… how did you get here so quickly?"

He shrugged.

"I got bored and decided to follow you. Besides, I would've had to kill you later anyways, even if I let you escape now."

So this was it. I had to fight or die now. Confrontations like this had occurred many times before, but never against an opponent so much stronger than I.

Trying to keep my voice from trembling, I confronted him, taking a few steps forward as I did so.

"So… are you going to let me draw a weapon this time, or are you just going to attack outright?"

Lancer smirked.

"Go ahead and draw your blade, it's not like it'll make any difference, is it?"

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_A well-placed kick sent Shirou flying through the air, colliding against a nearby wall before slumping down and falling to the floor. The twin weapons with which he had tried to block were gone, reduced to dust. Another failed Tracing._

_Genevieve approached him, her face stern. For a moment, Shirou, his mind muddled by the impact against the wall, wondered if it wasn't her tight, one-piece black training outfit that was distracting him and causing him to lose. But then…_

"_Boy, this is getting ridiculous. You could choose any number of weapons, and yet you consistently decide to use the ones that you have the most trouble Tracing. If this were a real battle, you'd be dead by now."_

_Shirou got up, not without effort, and glared at her._

"_Fuck you. If you'd just let me use my pistols, you would've been forced to yield by-"_

"_Shut up. You know as well as I do that the enemies we'll be facing are the kind that could have you choking on your own blood before you even managed to pull the trigger."_

_Shirou shrugged._

"_I don't know why you're making such a fuss. All I need is a bit more time to finally master how to Trace the two swords properly."_

_Genevieve gave an exasperated sigh._

"_And yet **time **is what we are lacking here," she said, "We've got two years left. Oh, of course I could let you waste your time figuring out how to produce those weapons properly, but that'd mean you'd have to skip other parts of your training, wouldn't it?"_

"_So what are you planning to do?"_

"_Come with me."_

_A minute later Genevieve had led him out of the training room and into her room, where she started rummaging through her things. After a bit of searching around, she handed Shirou a long wooden box._

"_I stole these ones from a Catholic exorcist I once had to work with. It'll be easier and take less time for me to teach you how to use them than for you to grasp the intricacies of the swords you want to produce."_

_Arching an eyebrow, Shirou took the lid of the box, revealing three red sword hilts._

_None of them had a blade attached to them. _

"_What the fuck?"_

_Genevieve smirked._

_------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

"_Go ahead and draw your blade, it's not like it'll make any difference, is it?"_

My right hand went inside my coat, collecting the ancient weapons I knew would be there. These three sword hilts had been entrusted to me by Genevieve years ago.

With a flick of my wrist, three blades protruded from the hilts, as if by sorcery. Amusing… coming from the Church.

Black Keys. Three separate blades with the ability to pin down an opponent by simply striking at their shadow. If anything could help me live through this, it was these weapons.

Lancer raised an eyebrow, staring for a second. Then he charged.

In a split second I lashed out with the Keys, the three blades separating themselves from the hilts. They flew towards Lancer, who blocked them without stopping. Another flick of my wrists had another three blades summoned, just in time to block Lancer's strike.

And thus the fight began in earnest. Lancer would lunge, stab and strike at me, and I would do my best to dodge or parry his blows, always staying on the defensive.

To my surprise, I managed to fare quite well at the start, if only because of the versatility the Black Keys provided me with – every time I had to dodge or throw myself to the ground, I'd launch my blades at Lancer. While he was fast and agile enough to block them all, it did buy me enough time to regain my bearings before he charged at me again.

Even son, I was consistently retreating. Lancer's skill, speed, and strength were much greater than my own, and it showed. He kept me constantly on the defensive, and the strength behind his blows was such that my arm actually hurt when I parried. All things said, the winner of the battle had been decided from the start. Lancer could end this whenever he wanted by forcing me to keep blocking and dodging until I was too tired to keep up with him… or he could just stop holding back and just kill me outright. Whatever. Besides, with the way things were going, I was bound to fuck up sometime soon.

And I did.

It was only a simple slip-up. That's all it took. Lancer made a feint towards my right side, and I, tired and slowed down, fell for it. Fortunately, I was able to correct my mistake before he killed me, but by then Lancer had already managed to wound my left leg, further hindering my movement.

From then on it was just a downward spiral. Weakened as I was by my waning stamina and injured leg, I could barely muster the skill needed to keep myself alive, much less unharmed. As a result, Lancer was able to break through my defenses with relative ease, getting strikes in that I could have normally avoided. In a few minutes I was bleeding from several cuts all over my body and gasping for breath.

The fight ended when Lancer, apparently tired of playing around, aimed his spear at my neck. I managed to block before my throat was skewered through, but this action exposed my left side. With a sense of dread, I realized that I'd made the same mistake Saber did less than an hour ago.

"Aw, fuck."

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**A/N: **New chapter. All credit for betaing goes to Party Secretary DarckRedd (He's also the one who raped my disclaimer). Before you bitch at me for Shirou using Black Keys and being able to last more than a few seconds against Lancer, I will say this – all this will be explained in the chapter after the next, and not before, ok? Ok.


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